Frost
by sai-salamander
Summary: Set during inFamous 2, after Cole gets Kuo's powers, good!Cole as canon. Cole/Zeke.


**A/N:** yup, another one I found in the ancient folder of unfinishedness! Cole/Zeke, but good!Cole this time, set in inFamous 2 after Cole gets Kuo's powers. Basically PWP and no one is shocked haha.

* * *

Cole woke up with a start. There was a difference in the air to usual, and it took him a second to place it, but then there it was – yup, he was inside. For probably the first time with a Blast Core since what felt like forever.

He sat up, rubbing at the six o'clock shadow on his chin absently.

"Zeke?" His voice was loud. He was well-acquainted with how deeply Zeke slept – after all, not even his shit with the Cores was enough to wake him when he got going.

Cole reached out and shoved at Zeke's thigh. "Zeke!" Louder this time, and it actually got through; Zeke spluttered and jerked upright, looking around as if he'd been caught jacking off by a teacher.

"Cole, man, what's up? Don't do that to me, brother, you know how I get." He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck. "I gotta stop sleepin' like that," he said. He leant forward, elbows on thighs, and looked piercingly at Cole. "How ya feelin'? Got anything shiny and new?"

"Uh," said Cole, "I'm not too-" he paused. There was definitely something different, but different in a... well, a different way to usual. He felt as if everything was way too hot all of a sudden, and then Zeke was reaching out to him, tentative fingers brushing his face.

"You've got ice on you, brother," he murmured.

"Guess I ain't got the hang of Kuo's powers just yet, huh," Cole replied, his eyes on Zeke's. He caught Zeke's hand in his own and planted a kiss in the centre of his palm. It was hot; dry as a desert and almost scorching against Cole's lips, which felt like they were made of ice.

Cole pulled Zeke off the chair and down by his wrist until he was quite literally being straddled. "I don't feel like getting up just yet," he murmured into Zeke's hand. "How about a little cooling off time, huh?"

Zeke guffawed at the terrible joke, but his laughter was somewhat cut short as Cole yanked him in close for a kiss. It was stubbly and slightly unwashed, but felt like stability. Cole sighed, and Zeke pulled away for a second, a question in his eyes.

Cole ignored it; pulled him in again, feeling a sudden need to be warm. He scrabbled for Zeke's belt, getting it unfastened clumsily and releasing his dick to the open air. "Hope I'm not too cold for ya," he murmured, looking up at Zeke with an amused smirk dancing on his lips.

One of his hands dipped down and he stroked the length of Zeke's dick, revelling in the reaction it provoked. "What does it feel like, Z?" Cole didn't expect an answer, he just had an old habit of muttering a stream of questions and nonsense as they fucked. "Shouldn't have had a go at Kuo for not having control over it, this shit's got a mind of its own." He did concentrate, however, to stop himself making a popsicle out of Zeke's dick. That wasn't exactly what he was aiming for here.

With his other hand, Cole managed to get his own jeans unfastened and down enough that their dicks rubbed together with delicious friction. He swore, head falling back to hit the floorboards as Zeke jerked downwards with a curse of his own.

"Shit, Cole," he growled, all levity gone from his voice. "Don't fuckin' tease me like that, come on." He moved his hips again until his ass ground against Cole's dick, somehow wet at the tip as if he'd begun to melt.

Zeke planted his hands against Cole's chest and then managed to arrange himself so that Cole's dick pressed up against his entrance. He took a deep breath and then slid down, hard but slow just how they both loved it, until Cole was all the way inside him. Fuck, it felt good.

"I always forget how tight you are," Cole breathed, voice as gravelly as ever. "Fuck, Zeke, you're good." He moved his hips in a slow, rolling motion, pushing upwards and deeper into Zeke before drawing gradually back out again, inch by inch, then almost slamming back into him. The pace always drove the pair of them mad, cursing and sweating and almost fighting each other to finally reach their orgasms.

One of Cole's hands held Zeke's ass firmly, feeling cold against the heat of his skin. His other dipped down between them to grasp Zeke's dick, fingers wrapped tightly around it and jerking with the movement of his hips until they were in rhythm.

Cole felt his orgasm build up, lengthy as usual, and focused for a second. The hand at Zeke's hip grew chill, almost searing into his skin, and Zeke near enough fucking screamed at the sensation. He came all over Cole's belly with harsh jerking motions, his ass clenching so hard around Cole that he followed rapidly.

His whole body went limp and Zeke collapsed on top of him, Cole still all the way inside his ass. "You fucker," Zeke growled into Cole's chest. "If I have a frosty handprint on my ass I'm gonna kill you, brother."

"Least people'll know you're mine," Cole replied, idly trailing his fingertips over the mark he'd left. It wouldn't scar, he knew that much, but it would probably leave a reddened mark for a few days like a particularly hard bite would have. "You've never had a problem with that before, Z."

"Yeah well, before I wasn't about to get turned into the iceman," Zeke grumbled good-naturedly. "I don't wanna look like them merc freaks you've been takin' out, you get me?"

Cole snorted. "You're not built enough for that and you know it." He lazily caressed Zeke's back up and down his spine, being careful not to turn on the ice again. Why was this always the best of times, after they'd finished fucking and nothing else seemed to matter? The question didn't matter. Cole was simply comfortable there on the floor, Zeke a heavy, hot weight on top of him enough to heat the ice from his bones.


End file.
